Glaciate

I think the first time I ever fell in love was as an eight-year-old in the backseat of a car driving the Mohawk Trail through Western Massachusetts. And it wasn’t with anyone in the car, or on the radio, or in a magazine. It was with the road. It had drama, mystery, rugged good looks, and a badass attitude. Ever since, I have romanticized that particular part of Route 2, where, heading west, just past Miller’s Falls, the road stretches and twists and winds its way through woods and cliffs with an apparent death wish from all who dare to follow it.

But I had never actually driven The Mohawk Trail myself, it terrified me. That is, I hadn’t until one very cold Saturday in November, when I rolled out of bed early and hit the road to North Adams to visit Clara, one of the best models I know. I don’t drive 4 hours in a day (or even roll out of bed) for just any model or road trip, but I knew it would be worth it.

We had an amazing day of shooting- you can check out another one of our sets from the day here– and a ton of fun, but it was my solo drive that I think really made the day memorable for me. The cold, the feeling of impending doom on the hairpin turn, blasting music in my car, waving to the giant Indian statue in Shelburne Falls…

Emerson, who was no stranger to the Mohawk Trail himself, once said “life is a journey, not a destination.” That’s especially easy to forget as an artist in the age of social media when we all seem to be in a rush to produce lest we be forgotten. But it remains as true as ever. Without the journey, we never find our identity, our passion.

We miss the chance to fall in love. Even if it’s just with a road. Because, without love, there really is no point to arriving.